Noche Buena 2024: Traditions and Additions

Year in, year out, traditions are pretty much what our noche buena is about:  Buying the turkey (“Is it bigger/smaller than last year’s?”), the sausages, chestnuts, and other herbs for stuffing, then preparing it for roasting. 

The turkey is the meal’s centerpiece, spent for by son #1 this year and prepared by son #3 with the help of Mother Teresa. In the last two years, a charcuterie board (gift from our friend Mich) has been a most welcome addition to the table. 

Speaking of additional grace, this year, my sister Aie came to join us. And with her came memories of Christmases past. My late mom would also make time for our Christmas dinner from the province. There was that one merry time when Tony’s late mom and sister joined us, too. All three have gone to glory, but left us with blissful memories. 

Another happy addition this year was the Christmas eve worship, which packed our church to the rafters. It brought together our members’ families (from different places in the globe); it was a glorious reunion of old friends. 

Photos of our age-old Christmas dinner traditions (and additions):  

A dash of this, a dash of that . . . and  
voila!

New Hands, New Taste

Last year (2023), I totally abandoned my roles (AWOL is a better term) in our Christmas preparations.  

It has something to do with my facilitating our church’s women’s Sunday school, where we studied the true meaning of Christmas. My sons say “age.” 

Yes, age—the wisdom of age.  

The Lord dropped from above new hands to take over my roles, but with a new taste.  

I have often blogged about Mother Teresa and how she came into our lives, after the death of Ate Vi, our faithful househelper for many years. 

Last year, she turned our storeroom upside down to look for old Christmas thingies and by herself put them up in her own way, her taste.  

This year, before the calendar hit December, I took her to the mall and told her to point to decor that might look good at home. She pointed, I paid. 

These are Mother Teresa's workmanship—she mixed and matched old and new and the result is, tada! 

I used to be finicky about color, size, placement, quality, motif, etc. Those I renounced, too. 

She is happy; I am happy; the boys, as usual, noticed nothing. 

This is Christmas: 

“For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life.” John 3:16 NASB 

Like a Pilgrimage

Since 1998, two years before I left the workplace, my family had been going to the Canyon Woods Resort Club yearly—similar to what pilgrims do. Except that the place is not a shrine; it was our recreation haven.  

A friend’s daughter, who was then carving her career in sales, convinced me to invest in the club. To help her, I bought one share without knowing what the club had to offer. It was her first sale and it was my first investment (paid in installment).   

It proved to be worth the “risk.”  Our three boys had enjoyed the heated pool,  recreation area (all sorts of indoor games), gym, theater, library, spa, clean air, and the beautifully landscaped 220-hectare lot.  

A huge part of our stay in the resort was passing through the breathtaking view of the Taal Volcano.

We brought all our guests and close friends there not just for R&R but for workshops and golf.   

All those travels stopped when a bridge to the place collapsed. The coup de grace was the pandemic. 

When things had gone back to normal, we traveled there again last year. The place has decayed, but we still continued paying our membership dues. 

To take advantage of our privileges, we drove there again in December. “Our last one,” Tony and I said, deciding to stop paying dues. Not because the place is not what it used to be, but more because we both are not what we used to be: now too feeble to walk the sloping roads and distances between places. 

But son #3 was adamant. “I will pay for the dues!” 

I realized that fun memories (while our boys were growing up) cannot be dropped like a hot potato.  Oscar Wilde said it so well, "Memory is the diary that we all carry about with us.” And that grace diary is a part of who we are. 

On our way home,  son #1 and son #3 asked the driver to stop by the places (many are already closed) that were part of the resort in days of old. In each spot, they were gone a long time while Tony and I waited in the car. 

Son #3 took my photo with the familiar volcano in the background. I didn’t verbalize what was in my mind, I will not pass this way again. It was not a lament, but a celebration of new things that might come sooner than we think. 

“My health may fail, and my spirit may grow weak, but God remains the strength of my heart; he is mine forever.” Psalms 73:26 NLT

Paw It forward

Judge (an askal, meaning street dog), our only pet left after the death of his mother, Attorney II, turned six on Christmas eve.  

He was a surprise grace on Christmas day 6 years ago when the boys and I arrived from a staycation in a nearby hotel. 

His mother, Attorney II, started giving birth the day before. Son #3 assisted her, as she was a first-time mom at age seven. Just before midnight, while we were away, our househelper said Attorney II birthed two more--Judge was one of them.  

My sister Aie, who is spending the Christmas break with us, gifted Judge with a birthday present that she bought from Paw It Forward, a group composed of animal lovers who raise funds to donate to shelters that care for stray and rescued animals all over the country. 

How do they do it? They sell various merchandise, among which are bracelets and necklaces with the logo featuring a black paw and a white paw. This is what we read on the their FB page: 

Every Dog deserves a chance to have a better life

Be the change you want to see in the world

So what did Judge get as a birthday gift? Two paws . . .  

in a dainty necklace that he gratefully and gracefully accepted (he didn’t move when the necklace was being put around his neck) bought from a group concerned about caring for homeless animals, many of which are abused and abandoned by their owners. 

Our beloved Judge was petted to the max on Christmas Day.

Happy 6th birthday, Judge! 

Love Came Down: CHRISTmas 2024

For several Sundays leading to this day, Christmas, our Pastor Moe's message focused on the significance of Christmas—the most glorious day when LOVE came down.  

Of all his slides, I I took a shot of one that encapsulates the unfathomable LOVE of Christ for you and me. 

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:14 (ESV)

And so we celebrate! 

Judge Not

“Judge not!” We were cautioned in kiddie Sunday school. I took it to heart. But what a relief that it does not refer to judging in competitions. Otherwise, I’d have been cursed countless times. 

Since my first book was published about 22 years ago, I have been invited to judge in writing contests. It is always a rewarding experience. I get to read different writing styles and hear voices from different age ranges.   

The latest one to which I was invited was the national judging (from regional winners) of Gawad Teodora Alonso (GTA2024), 6th National Competition on Storybook Writing. Previously known as the National Competition on Storybook Writing, it is a project of the Department of Education (DepEd) Bureau of Learning Resources. 

The GTA is open to classroom teachers, non-teaching personnel, education leaders, and learners—with special categories for each of these groups. 

Compared to all other writing competitions, where entries are judged as manuscripts, GTA is unique. All finalists are printed as books. That’s why judging had to be a partnership between writers and artists—all 18 of us—most of whom have been long-time friends.  

I had wanted to blog about this day of grace, but we were sworn to secrecy until after the awarding rites. Now that the winners have been announced in formal ceremonies in Puerto Princesa, Palawan, I am free to share with you some of our photos. All storybooks were written in Tagalog and tackled various areas and levels of the Matatag Curriculum.  

It was hard work. How to choose from among so many well-executed stories? We had to agree on winners, but not before hours of bantering and debating.  

Lighted Fingers

My dull nails are not manicured, and my fingers are perhaps some of the sorriest looking in the world, but they are my beautiful tools in putting into words what brew in my mind. 

They are not as fast as my thoughts and they get lost on the keyboard, but I am grateful for they can do what I spend most of my time on—writing. I keep them dizzy daily. 

No longer. 

Not since yesterday. Son #1 gifted me with a lighted keyboard that glows, and glows even brighter in the dark. All the fonts are clear as day!  

I wish I were a touch typist like all the boys in the family, but I guess I took after my late dad. As a lawyer, he did a lot of typing on his old Remington typewriter only with his two sturdy forefingers. 

As my keyboard lights my fingers typing this, I think of light. And I pray that the world be lit with the truth: the saving grace of the Lord Jesus. 

As His second coming gets closer, the world is getting dimmer as prophesied in the Bible. 

Believers need to cling on to what our Savior repeatedly said on many occasions. This is one of them: 

“Again Jesus spoke to them, saying, ‘I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will not walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.’” (John 8:12 ESV) 

Through the Lens of a Child

Not many book readers remember the author’s name; only the content remains in their memory.

That's why it is a bonus—an honor, in fact—when kids who read my storybooks remember my name. “Grace D. Chong” is what they call me, because that is what they read on the cover. That makes my heart curtsy with respect. 

Now, when a child remembers not only my name but how I look and imagines how I work, that’s grandeus grace, like hitting the jackpot! 

The mom of a little girl named Jaz (a smart, talented girl who loves to draw) sent me this gem. Through her lens, she sees me avidly writing.  

My thought balloon, “How could Jaz have known that I munch on something while I write?”  

I would proudly name this perceptive girl, but son #3, a lawyer, always warns me about violating the Data Privacy Act of 2012 whenever he sees me blogging.  

But there’s no law against expressing one’s gratitude, is there? Thank you gazillion times, Jaz! 

May the Lord continue to hone your God-given gifts.    

The Gift of Faith and Faithfulness

Call it coincidence, or any other term, but I believe it is grace. 

Our women’s Sunday school lesson-series was on faith and faithfulness. Suddenly, I was invited to speak at a joint-ten-church women’s event (Christmas Fellowship in November!) on—surprise—faith and faithfulness. 

It would have been so convenient to just summarize our lessons for my talk, but I am averse to preaching, as I am not a theologian.  

How best to talk about faith and faithfulness? What words would resonate with kindred souls? 

Again, like another coincidence, I had just uploaded a blog titled, “What Has Made Your Faith Stronger?” My one word answer: storms. 

It was an easy decision; I would share with them one of my life storms.  I had written about this in my book “What, Me Retire?” but not everyone would have read the book and even if some had, a personal narrative makes all the difference. 

I left the workplace because I was coerced and compelled to quit. That is my faith story—leading me to writing books on grace today. Lest I may be misunderstood, faith is not my accomplishment or anyone’s. 

In fact, according to Dr. R.C. Sproul, a well-known Christian apologist, “Faith is not something that is naturally exercised by a fallen human being . . . On the one hand, God requires faith, and yet on the other hand, Scripture says that no one can exercise saving faith unless God does something supernaturally to empower him to do so.” 

God’s Holy Spirit enables the saved to be faithful 24/7. 

“For by grace you have been saved through faith. And this is not your own doing; it is the gift of God, not a result of works, so that no one may boast.” (Ephesians 2:8-9 ESV) 

Rare as a Blue Rose

What devastating damage the pandemic inflicted on spontaneity! After a three-year hiatus, routines could no longer be reconstructed; normal activities prior to that long imprisonment gathered dust. 

Coffee chats with friends used to be just a text away. “I’ll see you there in 20 minutes.”  

Family visits were unscheduled and could happen anytime. “We’re here; we brought merienda!” 

All these became as "rare as a blue rose," the idiom I like to use for rarity. 

"Did you know that blue roses are now aplenty?" one friend exclaimed when we finally met for lunch after many months of hedging and re-scheduling.   

That piqued my curiosity so I did a quick research. Indeed, the AI generated blue rose above is no longer a dream. Due to the absence of the pigment delphinidin, which give the blue hue, blue roses were (past tense) rare. 

In recent years, however, there has been a scientific breakthrough. Researchers have added genes to roses to make natural blue colors. 

Ergo, blue roses are no longer as rare as I thought. They are now a-plenty and a reality in flori-culture. 

“Ding, dong,” our doorbell rang one day this month. “We’re here!” My sister, one brother and his family, came to visit unexpectedly. And they brought merienda!  

From this day forward, I will stop using the idiom about a blue rose being rare. Because meet-ups with loved ones two years after the pandemic are now aplenty and a reality in people-culture. 

"For from his fullness we have all received, grace upon grace."  John 1:16  

MIBF 2024!

Whatever date the Manila International Book Fair (MIBF) falls on, the event remains constant. 

It is the happy place of readers and writers. 

It is the setting of excitement over new books or old books newly discovered. 

It is the venue for reconnecting with kindred spirits. 

It s the spot for signing or having books signed. 

It is the site for the young ones and the young once to browse and shop till they drop.

It is close to Eden.   

These photos show more than I can tell. 

Receiving the first copies of my new book, 

Everyday Grace for Kids: 365 Daily Devotions of Drawing closer to God from the CEO of OMF Lit;  

also in photo are John Michael Yu, illustrator of the book and Joan, editor and head of publications 

"Everyday Grace for Kids" is my 9th devotional for children.

At the OMF Lit-Hiyas booth (above) 

At the CSM Publishing booth (below)

"You make known to me the path of life;
in your presence there is fullness of joy;
at your right hand are pleasures forevermore."
Psalm 16:11 ESV

Once Upon a Time

In Ilocano, the translaton is: Idi un-unana nga panawen. 

Long ago and far away, my maternal grandparents, who lived next door in one compound, had a subscription of Bannawag (Dawn in English) Magazine.  It was a gift of my aunt’s suitor, whom she later married. No, it was not a bribe.  

A bit of a background: Bannawag features serialized novels/comics, short stories, poetry, essays, news features, and entertainment news, and was founded on November 3, 1934. The first issue had a production run of 10,000 copies and sold for 10 centavos each. It is still in circulation today, 80 years later.  

It was one of my early reading fares every week when the rolled magazine was thrown by the mailman into my grandparents’ porch. I took the liberty of unrolling and reading it before they could. I would alternate Bannawag with the English storybooks sent regularly by an uncle in the US and our Encyclopedia Britannica.  

I had totally forgotten about Bannawag until a dear friend, Luis (a multi-awarded prolific writer in Filpino), featured my book “Dump Truck in My Heart” in Liwayway magazine, one of the Filipino publications he writes for. And memories came rushing back. 

Bannawag is published by Liwayway Publications, Inc.  

So, do I write in Ilocano? 

To my shame and embarrassment, I can’t. It was not taught in school and it was just a weekly fare. But English literature was within easy reach daily. In my time, although we spoke Ilocano at home, English was the medium of instruction and before I could warm up to Filipino in my four-year stay at the University of the Philippines, I left for the US. 

Back in the Philippines for good, I twisted Luis’ arm to teach me how to write in Filipino. But after editing my 5th draft, he gave up, “Grace, I suggest you stick to English.” 

Ket ngarud kakabsat, kastan ti kasasaadko. 

Signing and Singing are Synonymous

“Dyslexic!”

I have been called that—often—by people I spend most of my time with: family and close friends. 

It’s because it takes me more seconds than they do in distinguishing left from right, push from pull, north from south, entrance from exit. 

Sometimes, I also mix up sounds of words. I’d say Dantu Date, instead of Dante Datu (his real name), or Papelmeroti instead of Papemelroti (spoonerism, it is called). 

“Should I be worried?” I once asked a doctor about these maladies. 

She laughed. “You are a writer, and therefore, a multi-thinker. There are too many things in your mind at the same time, making you oblivious to signs and sounds.”

And now this: 

Signing and singing, to me, are the same. Signing my books is building connection with the reader. It’s as though we are being connected by an invisible velcro. And that makes my heart sing.

Sign and sing. 

Sing and sign. 

Sign and sing.

Sing and sign.

Sign and sing. They are one and the same. In my multi-thinking (euphemism for absent-minded?) brain,  they are either interchangeable grace or 2-in-1 grace. And that has nothing to with dyslexia or spoonerism. 

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Then sings my soul, my Sav­ior God, to thee:

How great thou art! How great thou art!

Stuart K. Hine (1899–1989)

18 Years of Grace

And just like that, Leaves of Grace is 18 years old!  On this same day, I posted my very first blog. It has been my regular writing fare since. 

Every four days (sometimes one, two, or three), I post a new blog. I have never missed a beat except that one time when I was hospitalized, but I quickly made up for it by blogging almost daily. 

Why do I still do it? Well, I am still breathing.  

Blogging has been a panacea, a stress buster, an outlet, and often my prayer of thanksgiving for the undeserved grace the Lord grants me every day. It is a platform where I could write about my thoughts without censure. The editors are me and myself. 

To celebrate, I borrowed a birthday cake from my favorite online haunt: Pinterest. 

It includes pink flowers, which came to join my leaf header at the beginning of the presidential election campaign in 2021 and have remained. Pink is the color of hope and hope never dies.  

For how long will I be blogging? As I say often, till my last breath. Or, till my brain addles, whichever comes first. 

 

“. . . we never give up. Though our bodies are dying, our spirits are being renewed every day.”  2 Corinthians 4:16  

The GIFT of Seniors

Aging, the world is aging.

The percentage of people aged 65 and older is expected to double by 2050, reaching 2.1 billion. It's an irreversible global trend, according to The World Health Organization (WHO). 

This fact prompted Cely, a nursing professor and a nurse doctor, to organize GIFT (Growing in Fellowship Together with Jesus) to help us seniors in our church understand our aches and pains and be equipped with coping armors. 

Therefore, GIFT is not just an acronym; it is actually a much-appreciated gift. 

Once a month, we listen to God’s word through our Pastor; Cely gives helpful guides on how to take care of ourselves and what red flags to watch out for—including forward actions; our nurses check and record our vital signs. These are followed by exercise (dancing led by a youth leader) and one activity for the day (either embroidery, crochet, flower arrangement, etc.), capped by snacks.  

All these were shared with the community in October, our Missions month. The men’s group invited the barangay senior association and took care of logistics. From a modest number of 15, our number quadrupled.  

I was tasked to share the Word (our pastors are both young and the seniors might listen more to a fellow senior). 

With humility, I embraced the assignment. It was an opportunity to share the Gospel to the unreached—who came to us instead of us going to them. 

God’s Grace brought a horde to enter His church to hear His word and to be gifted with deeper knowledge of a blessed life stage called the golden years. 

Selfies and groufies were part of the game. 

It was a joyful GIFT to everyone who came. 

“We will do this again,” the president of the men’s group mused.    

(All photos borrowed from the PVGC FB page)

A Little Try and They fly

Every day, after having lunch, Tony and I park ourselves on the terrace. About this time, the birds, a flock of many birds, come and partake of Judge’s (our pet dog) meal. 

For month’s now, I have been dreaming to take a nice photo of them as proof to kith and kin that our house is bird-friendly. But whenever I pick up my phone, they fly away! 

Are birds camera shy? 

One day, as I waited for them to come, I had my camera ready, held in place by my arthritic fingers. The waiting rewarded my arms and fingers with painful cramps. 

Our driver, Sam, saw me and laughed, “Birds are super sensitive to sounds. When they hear even a very slight movement, they fly away!” 

I coudn't give up. The next few days I got a few shots of those who couldn’t fly away fast enough. A group shot of all (about three dozens, or more) would remain a dream.

So I did the next best thing. I took these photos to the computer and with some apps, I simulated their positions. Tada! 

Not as good as the real one and it does not capture their huge number but good enough. I love bird watching because they remind of God’s merciful grace: 

“Look at the birds of the air, for they neither sow nor reap nor gather into barns; yet your heavenly Father feeds them.” (Matthew 6:26 NKJV)

Someday, when these birds of creation stop coming, this photo will remind me of their daily visits to join Tony and me at our after-lunch parking lot. 

What’s the Big Deal with Haircuts?

Well, the boys in our family have theirs every three weeks. Many other friends say the same. It’s as commonplace as mowing the grass.  So what’s the big deal? 

For me, it was a BIG deal. For 20 years, I had the same hairdo, being trimmed by my hairdresser, Chat, every three weeks. I had to maintain the same look for photos in my books. In fact, I had compared myself to the Queen of England who had to keep the same hairdo, or the government would be changing those stamps and money as often as she changed her silhouette.   

But the pandemic barred me from going to the salon for three years, and during those times, my new books had to feature my old photos, which I thought was dishonest as I no longer look that way.

Anyway, the pandemic ended and finally, I had a haircut.

But the three years (ravaged by two Covid assaults), I self-reflected and decided not to be hung-up on consistent brand image (a habit I acquired from years in advertising). I opted for one that would hide my hearing aid and will not require me to wear earrings.  

See, advertising has changed big time, too. Look at those AI-generated-and-content-creator ads online. They maintain no template! The mass media of my generation is in ICU and has flatlined. 

BEFORE                                             AFTER 

With filters and editing apps available today, nobody really knows how one looks like in person just by seeing photos online, right?  I am not even sure if I look right (on the right). 

Chasing after Me

Psalm 23, KJV, has been in my memory since I was seven. The cadence and the Shepherd metaphor prod me to recite the whole chapter when someone mentions it. 

But it was only in church, while we were thinking of a theme for our church’s anniversary from Psalm 23, that this Bible chapter totally engulfed me—as though I had come upon something so rare and so precious. 

Psalm 23, verse 6 reads, “Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.” 

Shall follow me? I mumbled, seeing with new eyes what that means. I flipped trough various Bible translations and stopped in my tracks when I read The Message. It uses a verb so concrete and so graphic: chase!  

I imagined people and myself—when problems strike—not simply walking but running away from the narrow road. And the Lord chases after us with his goodness and mercy.  

Grace. Faster than the speed of light.

October: Go! Where?

October was Missions Month of CAMACOP (The Christian and Missionary Alliance Churches of the Philippines). From the first Sunday to the last, our church was decked with these. 

This year's theme: “All of Jesus for All nations.” 

In our women’s Sunday school, we also focused on our role in missions for which CAMACOP exists: 

 

"To transform communities and to aggressively disciple the nations by engaging in holistic development ministries; and by planting churches that proclaim Jesus Christ as Savior, Sanctifier, Healer and Coming King."

Can we do that? Not everyone is equipped to go out to the community and other nations. 

But we can with PSALM.

P – Pray for missions, missionaries, the lost, and unreached people. Participate in the church’s missions events.  

S – Support those who can go out by giving to the church’s Mission fund. Sing aloud “Jesus Only,” our main message to the world, and to ourselves.  

   

A – Applaud those in the mission field. Appreciate them through letters, words, or any other form of love gift. 

L – Learn from missions-specific teaching and training in church. Listen to sermons about God’s heart for the nations, evangelism, and missions.

M – Meet a missionary and hear about his/her work to preach about salvation. Meditate on how God saves sinners.   

On the last Sunday of October—while many of us were donned in varied national costumes—we met a missionary, Pastor Lillian Pada. She limped on a cane to the pulpit, where she shared her experiences. We were inspired by her humility and her tenacity to serve God through flood and drought, sunshine and rain. 

Listening to her made me reflect on Apostle Paul’s suffering in the mission field: 

“I was given a thorn in my flesh, a messenger from Satan to torment me and keep me from becoming proud.

"Three different times I begged the Lord to take it away. 

"Each time he said, 'My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness.' 

"So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me. 

"That’s why I take pleasure in my weaknesses, and in the insults, hardships, persecutions, and troubles that I suffer for Christ. For when I am weak, then I am strong.”  2 Corinthians 12:7-10 (NLT):